


through hell and high tide

by opinionhaver69



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: (Badly) Suppressed Feelings, Canon Compliant, Complicated Relationships, Light Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn With Plot, what's a casual booty call between exes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opinionhaver69/pseuds/opinionhaver69
Summary: Silence fell between them. After a long and ponderous moment, Zagreus let out an explosive breath, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and promptly caved. “So, to what do I owe your visit?”“I just wanted…” Thanatos trailed off, his eyes dark with some complicated emotion. He sighed, his expression briefly concealed by the long-fingered hand he pressed wearily to his temples, then lifted his gaze to Zagreus’ face and said again, simply: “I wanted.”***Early in Zagreus' journey, Thanatos pays him a visit in his bedchambers.
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	through hell and high tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nohrg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nohrg/gifts).



> Like I said in the summary, this is set fairly early on in the game's narrative - after Zagreus has reached the final fight but before he's managed to beat it. He hasn't yet met Persephone (and ergo, hasn't yet realised that he can't survive for long outside of the Underworld) and his relationship with Thanatos is largely as it is when you first meet him in-game. 
> 
> CW: there are aspects to their sexual relationship as depicted here that typically require some negotiation, which isn't present in this fic, but as Zag and Than have capital-h-History it's safe to assume they've had those conversations previously and are abiding by previously agreed-upon boundaries and dynamics.
> 
> Happy Yuletide! :)

It went like this, once:

At the conclusion of a long and ferocious battle, Zagreus was pierced through by the barbed head of his father’s spear. As he dropped to his knees, blood spattering alarmingly red onto the achingly white snow around him, the oily crimson waters of the Styx rose in the peripheries of his vision to claim him. And to his credit he resisted for a longer moment than ought to have been possible, even as the boons of various gods ebbed from him as if carried away by the mournful wind. Zagreus, ever obstinate, gritted his teeth against the pain and shook his head frantically from side to side to make the surging waves recede - until, in a sudden definitive rush, they closed over his head and the darkness swallowed him whole. 

And then he woke up, and crawled out, and he was back in the House of his father. He made his rounds wearily this time - greeting Achilles, petting Cerberus - and then headed straight to his bedchambers. Again. He would try again. 

Except that Thanatos was waiting for him there, strangely incongruous in the eclectic, colourful mess of Zagreus’ bedroom, standing by his bed and looking somberly up at the mirror that dominated the western wall. The overall effect of his presence was singularly disorienting; Thanatos seemed to have made himself purposely extraneous to the scene, as though he could have been anywhere else either within the Underworld or outside of it, except for the fact that he was most definitely here, examining Zagreus’ belongings with a detachment so profound that it verged on disinterest.

“Zag,” said Thanatos, not bothering to turn his head towards the object of his attention. His voice was unremarkable, deep and soft and unassuming, but distant somehow, as though it emanated from some forgotten place beyond the veil that separated life and death. That strange, intangible quality brought with it a hushed and morbid sense of finality - like handfuls of earth tumbling onto a shrouded corpse, the whisper of cloth being drawn slowly over bone. Two truths at once, as it always was, with him; that which existed plainly on the surface, and the darker undercurrent that pulsed beneath, inviting and repellent in equal measure.

“Than,” replied Zagreus, his tone carefully neutral. Caught off guard, he lingered by the entryway and waited for Thanatos to speak, or move, or look at him, or do anything that might explain his presence in Zagreus’ bedchambers.

There was no explanation forthcoming. Instead of elucidating, Thanatos turned and nodded curtly towards the lyre positioned ostentatiously near the foot of Zagreus’ bed. “You play, now?”

Zagreus winced. “Uh. Sort of? I guess.” If the mangled notes the lyre produced when he touched it could be construed - even remotely - as Zagreus actually playing the instrument, which he suspected they could not.

Thanatos considered this answer briefly, his head tilted curiously to one side. “Mmm,” he said eventually, coming to some wordless judgement that he didn’t seem to feel the need to share.

Silence fell between them. After a long and ponderous moment, Zagreus let out an explosive breath, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and promptly caved. “So, to what do I owe your visit?”

“I just wanted…” Thanatos trailed off, his eyes dark with some complicated emotion. He sighed, his expression briefly concealed by the long-fingered hand he pressed wearily to his temples, then lifted his gaze to Zagreus’ face and said again, simply: “I wanted.”

“You… wanted?” Zagreus raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

Thanatos had little patience for Zagreus’ bemusement, evidently. He exhaled again, a short, sharp burst of exasperated air, then stepped in closer. “Would you believe me if I said it’s been a very, very long day?” His hair hung down over his face, partially obscuring his eyes, but behind it, his gaze was intense and piercing and somehow managing with envious efficacy to convey a silent question - not the one he’d asked, but the one that lingered expectantly beneath it. 

“Oh,” said Zagreus, feeling suddenly foolish as the purpose behind Thanatos’ presence became abruptly clear. He didn’t have long to dwell on it, though - Thanatos was once again in motion, stepping in closer still, reaching out with cool and elegant fingers to tilt Zagreus’ chin upwards and then bowing his own head down to press a dry, oddly chaste kiss to Zagreus’ waiting mouth. “I wanted,” he said for a third time, slow and calculated and unbelievably seductive, and then he leaned in again - with urgency this time, as fast and deadly as a viper - and nipped sharply at Zagreus’ lower lip. His touch felt like the last split-second in a fight before the enemy landed their killing blow; fated, almost, a confused tangle of relief and desperation.

“Than…” Zagreus murmured, as Thanatos pulled away. At some point, and entirely without his conscious involvement, his eyes had drifted shut. He opened them again - it took effort - then blinked a couple of times to bring Thanatos sharply back into focus. 

“So, yes?” asked Thanatos, coolly.

“Yes,” came Zagreus’ fervent and immediate reply. “But - Than - are you sure? That you want this? We haven’t… I mean, I thought we didn’t, anymore, so...”

Thanatos laughed, a hushed, dry sound like the rustling of dead leaves. “I’m sure, Zagreus.” His steady self-assurance was plain to see in the imperious tilt of his chin, the poised set of his shoulders. How effortlessly he wore the holy vestments of Death Incarnate - how easily he made the offer to lay himself bare. 

Zagreus breathed out unsteadily. The air between them felt thick and magnetically charged, as inevitable as the waters that carried him ceaselessly back to this place time after time. “Come on, then,” he managed, his mouth suddenly dry, “if that’s what you’re here for.” As he spoke he was reaching out already with both hands, grasping clumsily at Thanatos’ robe to pull him in closer. 

And closer Thanatos came. It was like the breaking of a dam, travelling from unhurried to unstoppable in the space of a single moment. He moved with the preternatural fluidity that came to him as easily as godhood, allowing Zagreus to draw him in, then pushing inexorably forwards until Zagreus’ back slammed into the stone wall of his own bedroom. The impact forced Zagreus’ breath out of his lungs, and Thanatos inhaled it greedily before once again dipping his head to kiss him, hungrier this time. He grabbed a fistful of Zagreus’ hair - not particularly gently; Zagreus hissed at the sting of it, and his next kiss had bite - and then released it, sliding his hands back between them to cover Zagreus’ with his own. He lifted them away from his robe only to encircle them at the wrists with the fingers of one strong, capable hand, and pinned them firmly back against the wall over Zagreus’ head. At this, Zagreus made a high, involuntary whine, pushing back against Thanatos’ grip just to make him commit to the action of holding him there - which he did, one eyebrow arched, his parted lips revealing a flash of sharp teeth. This, the push-and-pull of it, this heated and frantic battle; yes, it was this that Zagreus needed from Thanatos, that he’d missed so bitterly in the long months - years? - that it had been denied him. Thanatos’ sporadic challenges in the Underworld… well, they livened up Zagreus’ attempts to leave, certainly, but they were yet a poor substitute for this. 

“I’ve missed you, Zag,” Thanatos said softly, the next time their mouths broke apart. “Like this, I mean. Seeing you like this.” And then he stepped away completely, entirely without warning, leaving Zagreus bereft and cold in the chill air of his bedchamber. 

“Than?” Zagreus’ voice was hoarse, and contained a note of undignified neediness that he knew would have embarrassed him if he was still capable of the prerequisite shame. 

Thanatos smirked, a wicked and unrepentant curl not entirely unlike the sharp silver blade of his scythe. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, the words coiling around Zagreus’ chest before pooling - viscous, like blood - in the pit of his stomach. “I want you on the bed.”

 _On the bed._ The bed, its sheets in wild disarray as if to preempt the activities that would soon be taking place among them. Thanatos’s voice, so deep it was almost a drawl; his eyes, gleaming with lust and - faintly - mockery. Zagreus took it all in, desire pulsing in his loins, and then wordlessly he obeyed, pushing himself away from the wall and making his way over to the bed with jerky, uncoordinated movements. 

“Good.” Thanatos nodded his approval, his ageless face smooth and unperturbed. And how was it that his composure could remain so calm, so unruffled, throughout an encounter such as this one? It was something that used to frustrate Zagreus, back when they used to do this on a regular basis - but it had turned him on too, the impassive gaze that watched as Zagreus came undone, enough that he could never quite bring himself to resent it. 

Zagreus - neither calm nor unruffled - sat himself down on the edge of his own bed. His head felt foggy, his thoughts jumbled and blurry, and simultaneously it felt as though he’d been pulled away from his body and was experiencing the encounter from outside himself, passively observing the laboured rise and fall of his chest, his dishevelled hair, his kiss-swollen mouth. Distantly he watched as Thanatos drew nearer, clever fingers nimbly unfastening clasps and sliding layers of fabric from broad and muscular shoulders. And then, almost immediately - or at least, so it seemed - he was naked, and so was Zagreus; the sudden shock of the bare, hard planes of Thanatos’ chest coming into contact with his own brought Zagreus abruptly back into the scene, back into his own body, which was, at that moment, being pressed back against the bedsheets by the strong and capable hands of his erstwhile lover. “Than,” he said breathlessly. “Thanatos.”

“Mm?” Lazily, Thanatos lifted his head from the crook of Zagreus’ neck, one eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

“I just…” Zagreus squirmed, his thoughts temporarily scattering from the faux-casual press of a single muscled thigh between his own. “I didn’t, I didn’t stop wanting this,” he babbled, semi-coherent, earnestly twisting his neck so that he could look directly into Thanatos’ penetrating amber eyes. “Wanting you. You should know, Than, I never - I never...” 

Something flashed across Thanatos’ features, an emotion too fleeting to name. “I know,” he said, carefully inscrutable. 

“Good,” said Zagreus, feeling as though some unnameable urgency had been assuaged, and he settled himself back happily against the pillows, tightening his thighs around Thanatos’ leg and bucking his hips up needily as though to spur Thanatos into action. Thanatos took a moment to respond, looking down at Zagreus thoughtfully with serious eyes, and then silently he acquiesced, rolling his own hips down hard in a sensuous motion that made Zagreus yelp and dipping his head back down to the smooth, sweat-damp area where the skin of Zagreus’ neck flowed into the solid musculature of his shoulder. 

They moved together as though in a dream, their bodies effortlessly remembering the familiar patterns their minds - or Zagreus’ mind, at least - had tried hard to forget. Zagreus was so keenly attuned to each of Thanatos’ movements, each tensed muscle, each hitched breath or suppressed sigh, that in the maddening haze he began to feel as though he was somehow bleeding out of his own boundaries, his body melting into Thanatos’ so that every sensation was somehow magnified in the liminal space between them. It was intense, intoxicating, almost beyond words - until Thanatos pulled himself away from the red-purple marks he’d bitten into Zagreus’ neck and said, huskily, “You bruise like a mortal.”

There was nothing the God of Death could have said that would have been filthier, more obscene, Zagreus knew, and this effect was heightened by the hushed tone in which the words had escaped his bloodless lips - holy, like a prayer, or perhaps just betraying his embarrassment at the power Zagreus’ almost-mortality wielded over him. Either way - Zagreus shuddered, and his cock throbbed in the shallow groove between Thanatos’ hip and thigh. He never felt closer to humanity than he did when he was with Thanatos, whose every touch felt like dying, and the sudden surge of mortal passions was as addictive to Zagreus as the ineffable urge that saw him return time after time to the myriad regions of his father’s realm, death and escape two sides of the same inevitable coin. 

Thanatos pulled back even further, holding himself up with one hand until the tips of his bone-white hair no longer brushed against Zagreus’ cheekbones. Bringing his free hand to Zagreus’ chest, he methodically pressed down and then drew his nails all the way down to the base of Zagreus’ abdomen, his eyes languid but his movements exacting and precise. The pain was sharp; Zagreus threw his head back and cursed at it, want surging thickly in his veins. At the sight of the marks he’d left behind - four angry red lines blossoming where the blood had rushed to the surface - Thanatos hissed between his teeth. His expression darkened with something more than desire. “It’s stupid,” he said, the calmness of his words undercut by the faintest tremble in his voice, “how tremendously breakable you are.” 

Zagreus smiled, a sharp, mirthless grin, his upper body gleaming with sweat and his lower limbs tangled with Thanatos’ among the mess of sheets. “Try me,” he said hoarsely, then shouted out a yell into the heady silence of his bedchamber as Thanatos wrapped his long fingers around Zagreus’ cock and began stroking him off, his pace ruthless as Zagreus writhed and panted beneath him. 

After that, it was over almost embarrassingly fast. It wasn’t just the physical sensation of Thanatos’ experienced hand, overwhelming though it was, but the feeling of vulnerability at being so exposed under the steady gaze of a being whose stately formality extended even to this, whose smooth and perfect skin could bear no lasting scars or blemishes, whose reputation could easily be tarnished if his carnal association with the lowly son of Hades became known. It felt almost humiliating to wonder - did it shame Thanatos to come to Zagreus’ bedchambers like this? Was he lowered by this encounter, or any that had come before? And, to that end, was it hunger or simply curiosity that brought him here in the first place? All of these questions flashed through Zagreus’ mind; all of them, and more, and then his vision whited out and his thoughts disintegrated as his body trembled with the overwhelming force of his orgasm. 

As he blinked himself back into clarity, a minute or one hundred years later, so too did the answer to all his questions become obvious. Thanatos’ perfect composure had finally been dismantled; his expression was broken wide open, and in his golden eyes was an emotion that could not be mistaken for anything other than sheer, unadulterated longing. Before Zagreus could even begin to formulate a response to it, Thanatos was crushing their mouths together in a kiss, messy and violent and intimate, gasping his desire between Zagreus’ parted lips, and then he pulled away, leaving Zagreus blinking in surprise. “Than…” he started, sounding no less dazed than he felt.

Thanatos cut him off almost immediately. “I want your mouth,” he said abruptly, his face fierce and intent and only inches away from Zagreus’ own. “Can I?”

Zagreus involuntarily moistened his lips, his spent cock managing a feeble twitch at Thanatos’ frantic request. Desperately, Thanatos’ eyes followed the motion of his tongue. He held himself perfectly still above him, though, almost unnaturally so, until Zagreus licked his lips again and said, “Yes,” adding, somewhat unnecessarily, “Please.” 

“Fuck.” Thanatos said it fervently, his expression reverent, and suddenly he was moving again, using his knees to press Zagreus’ shoulders back into the mattress and then holding his cock to Zagreus’ lips, waiting a mere fraction of a second before sliding it forward into his waiting mouth with a low, unbroken moan. He was gentle, at first, every muscle in his body taut and trembling with the effort of holding himself back, until, urged on by whatever it was he saw in Zagreus’ face, he broke, strong hips flexing hard on every thrust. It was sloppy, it was obscene, but it was Zagreus’ mismatched eyes he was looking at when he choked out a hitching breath and came, pulling his cock out at the last second to adorn Zagreus’ upper body and throat with the fluids of his release. Time slowed for a moment, the sound of heavy, ragged breaths mingling together in the stillness of the air, and then Thanatos slid off of Zagreus and crashed inelegantly down onto the bed beside him.

“Okay,” Zagreus said after a minute, his tone caught somewhere between awe and contentment. He gestured down at himself, somewhat disbelieving. “Well, I’m - basically a mess, now, so.” He was; the evidence of their activities covered him from groin to chin.

Thanatos looked at him, then groaned, his head flopping back against the pillows. “That’s - yes,” he said, the words coming out oddly stilted. “But I think I’m going to need a minute before I can go again.”

Zagreus grinned, and - slyly, he thought - nestled in closer, resting his head against Thanatos’ bicep with a soft, satisfied hum. Half-assedly, he wiped himself off with an edge of the nearest sheet. They needed changing anyway, he rationalised; he finished and tossed the sheet haphazardly to one side, letting himself drift off in the comfortable cocoon of Thanatos’ body. 

Some time later, he was jolted awake wholly without fanfare when Thanatos slid his arm out from beneath Zagreus’ head and abruptly sat up.

“Mm?” The drowsy noise was about all Zagreus could manage. Lazily, he reached an arm out, dropping it with fingers outstretched a hair’s breadth away from the graceful curve of Thanatos’ spine.

“I should go,” Thanatos said quietly, without turning his head to look at him. “I’ve stayed too long.”

“Oh.” Zagreus blinked himself properly awake, then propped himself up on his elbows and squinted across at Thanatos. “...Okay.” He chewed his lower lip to hide his disappointment, then asked anyway. “Are you sure?”

Thanatos sighed, and stooped down, collecting his clothes from the floor. He didn’t answer, but dressed himself quickly and efficiently - which was an answer in itself, Zagreus supposed. He pulled the sheets up to cover more of his own nudity, feeling a little more exposed now that the post-coital haze had waned. 

Once dressed - everything neat, and back in its proper position - Thanatos paused, a chagrined expression on his face. He wasn’t looking at Zagreus, but at the lyre he’d asked about earlier, and as Zagreus watched he stretched out his hand and drew his fingers lightly over the strings. They hummed faintly at his touch, a far more melodic and harmonious sound than anything Zagreus had thus far been able to elicit from them. 

“I thought perhaps you’d found a new hobby,” Thanatos said, a touch wistfully, his eyes still on the instrument. “And that maybe it would manage to keep your interest focused down here, in the Underworld, rather than up there on the surface.” 

“Uh,” Zagreus said, awkwardly. “Um, nope. Still, ah, very much focused on that.”

“I know,” Thanatos said simply. “I can feel it, you know. When you die. Especially up there - it’s much stronger in the mortal world. And you’ve been getting that far a lot more often lately, so…” He trailed off delicately, his implication clear. 

Guilt bubbled in the pit of Zagreus’ stomach. “I’m sorry, Than,” he said, his voice quiet but fervent. 

Thanatos shrugged off the apology. “I don’t think ‘sorry’ means anything if you’re going to keep doing it, which you are,” he said matter-of-factly, ignoring Zagreus’ wince at the impact of the truth so plainly stated. “And besides, I never asked you not to, and you never told me you wouldn’t, and we weren’t… together, or - anything like that when you started, so you’re not actually doing anything wrong. By any of the conventional metrics.” 

“Still.” Zagreus sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. They’d never talked about this - the air thrummed with the tension of all that had thus far gone unspoken, and Zagreus felt a sudden keen fear that if he didn’t speak now, or if he said the wrong thing, then Thanatos would leave and this opportunity would be gone forever. “It’s not - it isn't that I didn’t want to be with you. Back then, or... It’s just, I’m nothing more than a prisoner here, Thanatos, in a place that doesn’t want _me_.”

Surprise showed faintly on Thanatos’ face. “Doesn’t it?” 

“You only work here, Than.” Zagreus kept his voice soft, but he could still see the effect of his words in the rigid set of Thanatos’ shoulders. "This is my father's realm." 

“Well,” Thanatos said crisply, the word landing heavily between them. “Forgive me for being blunt, then, but it’s something of a struggle to trust in your sincerity when you say you want to be with me while actively travelling a path which would seem to ensure the impossibility of that outcome.” 

Zagreus exhaled a frustrated breath, his hands balling into loose fists at his sides. “Why did you come here, then? If nothing's changed between us?" 

Stillness, again. Thanatos turned away from him, only slightly, his head bowed so that his hair hung low over his face. "Call it a momentary weakness, if you must," he said quietly. "These days it seems like I feel you die more often than I see you living." He sighed. "And I've been resisting the pull of your bedchambers for long enough that if it was ever going to get easier, it surely would have done so by now." 

There was nothing Zagreus could say to that. Sheepish, he dropped his gaze, then said, pleadingly, "I want to see the _sun_ , Thanatos. If I had it all my way, you’d be there to see it with me.” 

“I’ve seen it.” Thanatos’ voice sounded lofty, now, even bored, although Zagreus suspected the latter was an affectation. “It’s too bright, and it hurts my eyes. I don’t particularly enjoy the experience.”

“Oh. Yeah." Zagreus' shoulders slumped guiltily. "You've told me that before, I just - I forgot. I'm sorry.”

“Yes,” Thanatos replied flatly. “I still abide by my duty and my purpose, Zag, even if you don’t.”

“I have no purpose here.” It was a cold and simple truth, and one that it still pained Zagreus to admit. He made himself say it, though, his shoulders squared and his expression as naked as the rest of him. 

At last, Thanatos turned his gaze to Zagreus’ face. “And do you think you’ll have one there?”

Stymied, Zagreus fell silent. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “But I have to do it. I just have to, Than; I don’t expect you to understand.” 

“And I won’t wait for you here.” The words were quiet, and sad, and final. “Your relationship with your father... it’s troubled, Zagreus. I won’t attempt to claim otherwise, and I understand more than you think. I know it isn’t as simple as - as wishing I was enough to make you want to stay. But I can’t be yours and watch you leave me over and over again; I can’t - love you and still feel you die your countless deaths. It’s too much to ask.”

Zagreus swallowed. His throat was dry, and made an audible sound in the hallowed silence of the room. “So I won’t ask it.” 

Thanatos smiled softly. “Then I wish you luck, Zagreus,” he said formally, straightening up and brushing a speck of imaginary lint from the front of his robes. “I hope you reach the surface, and I hope you find whatever peace lies in wait for you there. I hope that whatever it is, it’s enough.” 

“Thank you,” said Zagreus. There was something lodged in his chest, some tiny wound, sending questing tendrils of hurt all the way down to his extremities. “I hope so too. For what it’s worth.” 

Thanatos laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Oh, Zagreus,” he said, his tone almost achingly fond, and he leaned in close - swiftly, before Zagreus had a chance to react - and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, one hand clasped all-too-briefly over the nape of his neck and the soft hair that tangled there. 

And then the room dimmed suddenly, and he vanished, before the sensation of his lips had faded. 

It was unfair, Zagreus thought, that he could do that, removing every trace of himself from a room as though he'd never even occupied it in the first place. His absence left a void that wasn't assuaged by the unmistakable smell of sex in the air and the rumpled bedsheets, slightly untidier than they had been that morning. But it was always Thanatos’ way, to disappear before things had a chance to get messy, just as it was Zagreus’ to run headfirst into the turmoil with his eyes and heart open. 

With a sigh he rose from bed, bending over to retrieve his clothes just as Thanatos had done only minutes earlier. Thanatos, he knew, was bound to the House of Hades; for all his words of farewell, he would be there when Zagreus returned or soon thereafter. Zagreus felt another jolt of guilt at the knowledge that his next death, and all those that followed, would not be merely his to experience alone. Still, though... He couldn’t stop, not now, with news of his mother waiting for him there only just beyond his reach. Nor would he wilfully hurt Thanatos - if distance was what he needed, then distance he would have, as much as it pained Zagreus to give it.

But those were concerns for later, as harsh as that seemed. Zagreus steeled himself, his thoughts already turning to his next escape attempt, and gave a wry smile to his own reflection in the mirror. 

Again. He would try again.


End file.
